Quotes About Connection

Prayer is the key of the morning and the bolt of the evening.

Culture of the mind must be subservient to the heart.

We don't fast to earn something; we fast to make a connection with our supernatural God. We are cleaning out the "pipe" that connects us to the anointing of God.

Les rêves aussi sont contagieux

Je m'étonne/ De ceux qui, connaissant l'amour, aiment encore!

If they Brought you back the old cafes, who will bring you back the old friends?

On the train we swapped seats, you wanted the window and I wanted to look at you.

Be my lover between two wars waged in the mirror, she said. I don't want to return now to the fortress of my father's house. Take me to your vineyard. Let me meet your mother. Perfume me with basil water. Arrange me on silver dishes, comb me, imprison me in your name, let love kill me.

My love, I fear the silence of your hands.

She does not love you. Your metaphors thrill her you are her poet. But that's all there's to it. from "She Does Not Love You

I melt at your glances and become music.

I see what I want of Love... I see horses making the meadow dance, fifty guitars sighing, and a swarm of bees suckling the wild berries, and I close my eyes until I see our shadow behind this dispossessed place... I see what I want of people: their desire to long for anything, their lateness in getting to work and their hurry to return to their folk... and their need to say: Good Morning...

There is no name for what life should be, except what you did and what you do to my soul.

The image of love reveals itself there; in a profoundly present absence.

Had I known you, I would have possessed you, and had you known me, you would have possessed me. But then you and I would not be.

And we have the night ahead of us to stroll in lilac-scented gardens. Everything there is here. It is all ours. You are mine, I am yours and the shadow, your shadow, laughs like an orange. The dream did its job and, like a postman, hurried on to someone else. So we have to be worthy, this evening, of ourselves, and of a river that runs along beside us, and that we flow into as it flows into us.

Do not be absent for too long, then come and ask about how I am, details die with time and stories change.

All roads lead to you, even those I took to forget you.

Words are a homeland.

I have passed by many eyes but only got lost in yours.

I embrace you, until I return to my void, as an eternal visitor. No life and no death in what I sense as a bird passing beyond nature. when I embrace you… from "Maybe, Because Winter Is Late

You ask: What is the meaning of "homeland"? They will say: The house, the mulberry tree, the chicken coop, the beehive, the smell of bread, and the first sky. You ask: Can a word of eight letters be big enough for all of these, yet too small for us?

A small café, that's love.

I love talking to you, even if I have nothing to say.